A US Marine first and foremost. Co-owner of bar secondly.
Sam Evans and it's a pleasure to meet ya.
(rp purposes only)
“An actor?” Kurt’s tone is wry, more amused than mean at this point. He turns his glass around on the bartop, watching the dim lights above them play across the whiskey as it swirls in the shot glass. “No, not quite.”
Despite his career path of choice being maybe a little too on the nose, he’d never been particularly good at playing to type, and there was only ever one trope for boys like him in Hollywood. Whatever it said about himself or others, people took him more seriously as a designer than anything else. “I, ah, I’m in fashion.” He shrugs. “I make things.”
Normally he’d brag, but Sam doesn’t exactly seem like the type to care. Before the thought can get the better of him he throws back the last shot, pleasantly warm and loose and not quite tipsy, though it’s certainly getting harder to be subtle about checking Sam out.
That is not Kurt’s fault, either. He is awfully pretty. “I’ll be sure to keep that little bargain to myself, then.” He musters up something like a friendly smile for the first time since he walked in. “I’d hate for you to go broke before you get to ply me with liquor again.”
It honestly surprises Sam to hear that Kurt isn’t an actor. From the minute he saw him standing by the bar, Kurt exuded a presence that just seemed fit for being in front of an audience. Maybe it’s his confidence or the fact that he’s like no one else that Sam’s encountered, but Kurt’s demeanor screams performer more than it does designer.
Sam uses the opportunity to examine Kurt a little more closely as he rakes his eyes up and down his body. He tells himself that he’s just checking out Kurt’s outfit, but he definitely takes him time to admire the svelte figure underneath the clothes. Once he realizes what he’s doing he quickly shifts his eyes and looks at his own outfit. The faded jeans and western-style button down doesn’t scream fashion-forward and he looks up at Kurt and shrugs. “Yeah, well… I don’t know much about fashion, but that’s cool.”
He takes a quick pull from his beer before motioning towards the bottle of Jack. “You up for another one or are ya good?” Working in a bar has given him a high tolerance, but after three shots in quick succession, even he’s beginning to feel the effects set in. “Yeah, let’s just keep this our secret. I’m not sure Puck would like me giving out free drinks.” He laughs at that thought because honestly, Puck would be shocked knowing that Sam let someone drink for free. Usually it’s Puck who’s quick to give a free drink to any female who bats her eyelashes at him and Sam is the stingy one. “So you’re planning on visiting me again then?”
“So do I.” Kurt pulls himself onto a bar stool finally, giving up on any hope of leaving any time soon. He’s loathe to admit it, even to himself, but the last few days have been awfully lonely - not seeing Quinn, being so far from his usual place, even if the apartment he’s renting has a room just for his work things. He swallows a sigh; it’s just as hard to admit there’s not really anyone to miss back home, or that he’s not entirely sure whether or not anyone really misses him. He can be just as productive from a thousand miles away.
The jibe about their drinks almost makes him smile, and he glances up at Sam through his lashes as he pulls the little shot glass across the bar towards him. Kurt holds his liquor alright but still, maybe it’s not the best idea — “You say that to all the pretty kids who walk in there, I bet.” Flirting is probably a worse idea, but it’s hard for him to remember he should probably be a little more discreet than he usually is in the face of Sam and his very lovely lips. He throws the shot back once more, grimacing just a little. “You’re a generous man.”
Sam relaxes against the bar and smiles as he watches Kurt finally settle himself on a stool. He fells an odd sense of relief when he realizes that Kurt is in it for the long haul… or at least for another 40 minutes until he closes up. Sam figures that now is the best time to actually try and find out more about Kurt. Even though he hasn’t been all that forthcoming with personal information so far, Sam’s more than willing to give it another shot. “So ah… whatta ya do back in Hollywood? Are you an actor or what?”
Sam chases the second shot with a drink of his beer, and he chokes a little when Kurt mentions being pretty. He definitely doesn’t disagree with Kurt’s statement, although he wouldn’t quite use the word pretty, more like hot. However, he’s still not comfortable with the fact that he even finds guys hot, so he keeps his opinion to himself. He doesn’t want to make things uncomfortable again, so he tries to play off as best he can. “Well luckily for my wallet, we must not get too many pretty kids in here because I definitely don’t give that many free drinks away.” Since three’s a charm, he pours them both another shot. “You must be special because trust me, I’m a nice guy, but I’m not that generous.”
“I was entitled, I think,” Kurt replies a little tartly. For whatever reason Sam’s little smirk makes him feel strangely defensive, though he can’t tell if it’s because Sam’s mocking him or because he’s sometimes disappointed in his own naivete at thinking making it big in the big city would really make everything easier. He tosses his head and brushes at his hair again, brushing off his irritation like he brushes his hair from his forehead. “I can get by. I just want to go home.” He shrugs again. “I have things to get back to.”
He doesn’t quite relax even as Sam goes to fetch him a shot glass - he shouldn’t have anything to prove to some bartender in the middle of nowhere, but he does, suddenly, and it just serves to irritate him more. Kurt takes the glass and raises it to Sam, flashing him a devious little smirk before he throws the shot back in ease. It’s been a while since he’s bothered trying and it’s everything he can do not to wince, but Kurt doesn’t and he can even manage to keep the grin on his face when he sets the glass down and nudges it towards Sam again.
“When in Rome, huh.”
This whole encounter with Kurt is making Sam’s head spin. The minute Sam thinks he’s finally breaking through with Kurt and getting him to relax, something happens which puts them right back to square one, and this time Sam doesn’t even know what the hell he did wrong. Most people would have thrown in the towel and called it a lost cause, but fortunately (or unfortunately depending how you looked at it) Sam is stubborn. For one thing, he’s never had someone not like him and the hell if he’s going to break that streak now. Then there’s the fact that even though they’ve only known each other for 20 minutes or so, there’s something about Kurt that makes Sam crave his approval. “Well then, I hope everything works out so you can get back home soon,” Sam says with genuine concern.
Even though he doesn’t know what he did to make Kurt turn so sour and he’s not sure what he can do to get things back on track, he figures that more alcohol can’t hurt. He takes a quick drink of beer to ease the burn of the last shot before filling both glasses up again. “And the good thing about drinking with the bartender/co-owner is that the drinks are, of course, on the house so cheers.”
“Depends on what you mean by from.” Kurt shrugs once, looking back down at his glass. Technically he was, born and raised for the vast majority of his life in some little bumblefuck town nobody believed existed in California. He prefers to pretend otherwise. “But I live and I work in Hollywood.” He rocks up on his heels and takes another sip of his water, brushing his hair from his forehead as he settles back on his heels. It’s hot. Hot and humid and gross and he wants to go home.
He licks his lips and sips at his glass again, furrowing his brow. Maybe. Kurt pushes his empty glass back across the bar with a wry smile. “Whatever you recommend, bartender. It’s more of an escape for her than me. I miss home.”
“So basically you’re saying you grew up in one, got the hell outta there the minute you could, and never looked back.” Sam smirks a bit and gives Kurt a knowing look. “I’m kind of the opposite. Born and raised in Nashville and then ended up here of all places.” He finishes his beer and pushes himself off of the counter to go grab another one. “Hollywood… wow.” Sam stares at Kurt for a bit as he takes the time to process that information. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re kinda out of your element being here.”
Sam does a double take when Kurt agrees to something stronger because even if he asked, he honestly didn’t think that Kurt would take him up on the offer. It’s a pleasant surprise as he grabs Kurt’s empty glass and sets it in the sink. “Well since you’re in the South now…” Sam grabs another bottle of beer, opens it, and sets in on the bar in front of Kurt before grabbing two shot glasses. He fills them both with Jack Daniels, slides one over to Kurt, and raises the other one up and waits for Kurt to pick his up. “When in Rome…”
“It’s very nice.” Kurt watches Sam through his lashes, head dipped as if he’s just staring at his glass of water; they’re so alone, and it bothers him, bothers him that Sam is being so unflaggingly friendly when Kurt is doing his best to throw down his water and move on. But Sam is pretty too, his smile is bright and warm, and without thinking, Kurt licks his lips. He does have an excellent eye for pretty things. “Perfectly lovely.”He rocks up on his heels and tips his head back as he takes a long swig of his water, licking his lips again after and shrugging his shoulders just once. “I don’t really expect it to be a very long stay, honestly,” Kurt hums. “We have a lot of things to get back to at home, but she needed a few days away.”
“It does take some getting use to though.” Even though Sam hasn’t seem visibly tense during this conversation, he does relax a little more once he sees Kurt warming up to him a bit, a very tiny bit, but he’ll take anything he can get at this point. He sinks down farther onto the back counter top and takes another drink of his beer, running his thumb along his bottom lip when he pulls the bottle away. “I mean… I’m kind of just assuming things here, so pardon me if I’m wrong, but ya don’t look like you’re from a small town yourself.”
“Ya sure you don’t want something a little stronger?” Sam asks as he motions his head towards Kurt’s glass after he finishes taking a drink. Again, Sam really doesn’t mean to pry, or at least that’s what he tells himself, and he hates asking so many questions about this Quinn character seeing that he’s never even met her. “Yeah, sometimes it’s nice to get away from everything, and this is a pretty nice place to escape to.” He still has almost 45 minutes until he officially closes down the place and even if Kurt was a little hostile at the beginning, he’s captured Sam’s interest and he doesn’t want him to leave, so he pushes a bit more. “Do ya mind me asking where home is exactly?”
“And I am certainly not a short pretty blond, so.” Kurt drums his fingers restlessly against the bartop, tense and awkward; he’s good at making nice and batting his lashes and shmoozing in crowds, but it’s so quiet here, quiet and uncomfortable and weird and intimate, and there’s Sam, just lurking there. If he’s going to be alone he needs to be alone, not in an empty bar with some stranger. He needs to be home. “Thanks anyway, I guess.”
He curls his hand around the glass and pulls it closer, keeping his eyes on it; he knows when he’s being watched and, despite himself, he preens just a little. “I’m here temporarily I guess.” Kurt shrugs and extends his other hand, shaking Sam’s with a grip firmer than someone might usually expect from him. “‘til Quinn moves back. My name is Kurt.”
They haven’t even been talking for five minutes and this guy, Kurt, is already frustrating Sam. Not in a bad way… just in a very irritating way. Sam has been blessed with the innate ability to put everyone quickly at ease with him. He’s always been able to make people comfortable around him and he’s only honed his skills since being a bartender, but this guy is different. Kurt is ice cold, and Sam’s at a loss as to what he can do to get the guy to thaw out at least a little bit.
He’s determined to try his best though, so he puts on his best, boyish grin after taking another drink of his beer. “Well it’s nice to meet ya, and I hope you enjoy our little town for however long you decide to stay.” He’s noticed that he’s made some slight progress with the small talk, so he decides to keep it up. “But um… didn’t you say she just moved here.” He doesn’t want to overstep his bounds and he doesn’t want to pry, much, but he’s generally interested to know everything he can about Kurt and he seems to be more willing to talk about this Quinn than he is about himself. “Why do you think she’s going to move again so quickly?”
Kurt ducks his head, keeping his eyes on the bar as Sam takes a step back - that is why he wants to go home, right there. Not everyone is over the moon about gays even in Hollywood and he’s met his fair share of closet cases concerned about their blockbuster film careers, but at least most people don’t care. He tries to think rationally - it’s not like the guy even knows - but he swallows a sigh all the same even as he climbs onto a bar stool.
“My friend Quinn,” he says simply, biting his lip against something a little snottier about how this is not exactly the kind of place he’d go trawling for hook-ups. Even if it is true. Even if there is probably not a great place for him to go trawling for hook-ups any closer than an hour’s drive, if he wanted to. “Short, blond, very pretty. She just moved here, I’m sure you’d know her if you’d seen her. She’s not at home,” he adds smoothly, which is not exactly a lie. “She’s so new and all I just want to make sure she gets back in one piece.”
Also mostly true. If there’s going to be a plane and maybe some drinks involved to ensure he gets to keep most of his appendages, well, that’s Kurt’s business.
“Mmmm…” Sam worries his bottom lip and squints his eyes as he recalls all the names and faces he’s seen in the bar recently. It doesn’t take him long to go through them all. Their clientele is mainly locales and the few regulars from the surrounding towns. “Name doesn’t ring a bell and yours is the first new face I’ve seen in awhile.”
“Sorry I can’t help you out.” Since the guy didn’t tell him any different, he fills the glass with water and sets it down on the bar. Sam reaches into one of the coolers beneath the bar and grabs a beer for himself, leaning against the counter behind him as he opens it. He takes a long swig and uses the time to study the guy in front of him. “So you move here too or just helping her get settled before heading back to wherever your from?” He pushes himself off the counter and extends his hand. “I’m Sam, by the way.”
not my fault you got kick out of military school befor they started the hand to hand combat training… i’m sure i can take him. i’ve faced much worse than an old drunk.
then be my guest sarg…just don’t be lookin to me for backup if that old fucker gets you on the ground. i’d just kick back and laugh at that point…maybe we could buy some car airfresheners, and when he passes out next time, we just stuff em in his pockets. he’ll never fucking notice that shit
that’s captain to you… but it’s nice to know you have my back. i guess we don’t want him tracking water all over the place so we can just have cher follow him around with a bottle of febreze and spray him down real good.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Though Kurt sounds more than a little surprised that a guy like that would be easy to startle at all, especially by someone as comparatively nonthreatening as Kurt himself. He leans his arms on the bar and clasps his hands together, looking around with thinly veiled disinterest before finally letting his gaze settle on the bartender again.
Okay, so, maybe if this is what Quinn came back home for, Kurt can find it a little more understandable. He lets his eyes wander just a little, across Sam’s broad shoulders and his pretty face and, wow, that mouth, before mustering something akin to a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m just looking for someone is all, but some water would be great.”
“Oh a…” Sam flushes a soft pink and tries to distract both the himself and the new guy by grabbing a towel and wiping down the already pristine bar. “Don’t worry about it.” As the stranger leans forward, Sam’s reflexes kick in yet again and he takes a step back. He regrets it instantly. He knows there’s a possibility that his move could offend the guy, but it’s too late now so he tries to casually play it off by throwing the towel in the sink behind him.
Sam gathers himself and slips into the role of your friendly, helpful bartender. He’s heard all kinds of stories from his place behind the bar. Sad ones, amusing ones, very very personal ones and even though he’s getting a little tired of hearing them all, there’s something about this new guy that makes really want to hear everything he has to say. “So just someone in general… or is there a particular person your looking for?” Sam reaches down for a glass but doesn’t make a move to fill the glass just yet as he notices the strained smiled on the guys face. “You sure you just want water? It kind of looks like you could use something a bit stronger.”
usmcsamevans replied to your post: yo dickwad. we really need to start making a rule that showers are mandatory before entering the bar. otis is really beginning to stink up the place.we just need to put a bucket of soapy water over the door and drop it on him before he comes in.have you ever seen that guy swing? if we do that you’re taking the blame for it, i’m not gonna be walking around with half my face smashed
not my fault you got kick out of military school befor they started the hand to hand combat training… i’m sure i can take him. i’ve faced much worse than an old drunk.
